Wednesday, November 2, 2011

meaningless, nothingness

Unhurried and monotonus
I walk back from the sea shore
With wet feet
and a soul
that refuses to be pleased

And the sunset behind
holds the crawling magic of mundane
With beauty and nostalgia
and an everyday panorama as it lies

For all I know
years ago a man who looked
exactly like this
would have walked back
from a similar sea shore'd sunset
as tranced and yet banal
as I have,
and years later
there shall be
the same looking me
walking away
of the same sun
unhurried and monotonus

The only movement
that there is
the moving time
and relative
nothing else moves
and yet all of it does
with me and past and future

Strange as it is
Once I look back again
and think
of how this nothingness
and stale prose
that is life
holds infinite meanings and yet not

Unhurried and monotonus and mundane

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